Sky
by write-love-latte
Summary: His fingers clasped, unclasped, then clasped again, as if trying to catch some of the sky for his own...Oneshot R&R! Drabble...


Sky

Ginny could not remember a day that the dove, a white, speckled creature, had not stared with its forlorn eyes out her window and to the skies. She was almost indebted to feel sorry for it, to blame herself for its maimed wings, its inability to once again take flight. To tell you the truth, it was a beautiful creature, pure and dainty with deep ochre eyes that held many sorrows, yet many sympathies. The day Ginny had found him, broken, under the Weasley household apple tree, had been the day that the dove had become so grateful to her, despite its loss. Though it could never mouth the many words kept in its heart, Ginny could see when the bird peered up at her from its wooden perch, the torrent of sad happiness trapped in its eyes.

And how its eyes were trained to her window, and how in its early days of captivity it had tumbled off its perch and towards the glass that kept it prisoner. It would flap broken wings, ignoring all pain, until it catapulted into the carpeted floor, flap hopeful of flight, until finally it lay huddled in the corner, soul crushed in revelation. Eventually revelation had been accepted, and the bird, with its wise eyes, had wordlessly convinced Ginny to move the perch closer to the window, so instead of trying to escape what was now his life and refuge, the bird could stare out into his past and lay awash in the memories he would never experience again.

Still Ginny blamed herself, so she would sit on her bed those many nights, watch the sturdy silhouette of the dove braced against the moonlight, and cry. The dove never turned to her, never acknowledged her sobs, but Ginny knew in her heart that she was forgiven, but that he would not give up his birthright for her happiness. Guilt still ate her as the dove stared relentlessly out to the sky, hoping for some sanctuary, some sign that would allow him to once again be free. He knew he would never survive, but what he would give to die with his freedom and birdlike dignity intact...!

Despite her guilt, Ginny had never seen any creature, man or beast alike, so enraptured with the expanse that was the sky. The dove seemed to have some unknown kinmanship with the fluffy clouds, some companionship found with never-ending blue and a certain friendship with the stars, that Ginny could never understand. More times than one, she wondered at her tiny bird friend's past, whether or not he would stare to the skies as such when he'd still had his wings...or if all of this obsession had started when he'd lost them, the only true thing, apart from his avian bloodline, that connected him with the skies. Some nights she would think, 'you never know what you have until it's gone,' and then peer hopefully over to the dove, whether in the faith that he would no longer be there, or in the faith that he had quit his forlorn observations of the sky.

Neither ever happened, not even on the day when Ginny had found the bird, stiff and cold, on the window sill, head reared back and empty eyes aglaze with primal infatuation. Even in death, the bird's dream had been, simply, to once more experience the sky. Ginny only wished she could have buried him in it, instead of in a shallow grave in her backyard.

And then, even at his departure, Ginny would never be able to shake the look of longing, absolute anguish, she had seen in the dove's eyes. The want for something you could never have; often she would wonder if it had driven him insane.

* * *

Ginny peered around the corner, heart stinging in recognition and familiarity. It was late at night, past curfew, she was sure, yet somehow she had felt herself drawn to the Astronomy Tower, following a batter of footsteps both cold and reassuringly beckoning. Now she stood, eyes wide and knowing, at the person standing before the large window that dominated one side of the imposing structure. The person stared longingly out to the sky, eyes caught in wonder and awe, white-knuckled hands clutching the window sill as if it were the only barrier between him and his freedom.

She could see it in his eyes, an all too familiar reminder of the bird she had once kept; except this was a human, and still in him she saw and felt the same aura that had been about the bird--an aura of need. He was different from the bird in many ways, but similar in many, as well. His wings had been maimed, though by who Ginny could not fathom, but he was not grateful for his life's saviour. Instead he felt more trapped than saved; he would of rathered death to this fate that kept him from the sky.

He reached out a shaking hand, stepping forward until his thighs were pressed to the cold stone. His fingers clasped, unclasped, then clasped again, as if trying to catch some of the sky for his own.

She shifted slightly, peering around him to his eyes, which were a deep, metallic grey. In them she saw a torrent of emotion, she saw his infatuation, his obsession.

She let out a gasp as he turned around, startled by the sudden movement, even more startled by the sensation of falling...

down...

away...

And then, even at his departure, Ginny would never be able to shake the look of longing, absolute anguish, she had seen in Draco Malfoy's eyes. The want for something you could never have; often she would wonder if it had driven him insane.

**Author's Note: Dedicated to my baby Billy Joe (my Senegal Parrot), fore I have truly never seen any one so enraptured with the mysteries of the sky. This is just a drabble that came to me while I was watching him--it was just something I saw in his eyes that I _had_ to write. Anyways, R&R!**


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